


Fitton University

by thelemonisinplay



Series: my housemates now [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drunkenness, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, MJN Air Is A Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelemonisinplay/pseuds/thelemonisinplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of working at Fitton Airfield together, MJN share a house whilst at uni together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fitton University

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for frlholmes as part of a Secret Santa, I've decided to post it because the Cabin Pressure fandom is lacking in university AUs.

He'd just dragged his first suitcase full of stuff from his brother's car when he was leapt on by a rather excitable young man with a wide grin.

"Douglas!" 

"Oh, hello, Arthur. Good summer?"

"Yeah, it was brilliant!" Arthur enthused, taking Douglas's suitcase from him, giving him space to retrieve more of his things from the car. "How about you?"

"Not bad, actually. Where's your sister?"

"I think she's still in bed, Karl and that lot came over last night and we had a bit of a party," Arthur called as he reached the top of the first set of stairs.

"Gosh," said Douglas. "So they're still living nearby, then? Excellent, I'd thought they might have gone off to live somewhere sensible now they're in their third year."

Arthur shook his head. "Apparently they really like the atmosphere of these flats. I kind of get what they mean, actually, it's nice living here."

They reached the top of the second set of stairs, and made their way towards the door of Flat M.

"Ah, I'd forgotten it smelt so dusty," said Douglas in a vaguely affectionate way, taking a deep breath as he walked in for the first time in three months. He and Arthur then deposited his suitcases in his room and went back downstairs to pick up the rest of his things.

"I don't suppose we've heard anything from the new guy, then?" Douglas asked as they made their way back up to the flat, both laden down with his possessions.

"Nope. I think he probably knows all our names though, the landlord did tell us his, after all."

"Yes. Mr Martin Crieff. The name tells us so much."

Arthur frowned. "Does it?"

"Of course not, Arthur."

"Oh, right." Arthur went silent for a moment, until they reached Douglas's bedroom again. "I think he might be Scottish, though. I think his name would sound good in a Scottish accent. _Martin Crieff_."

"That is, without a doubt, the worst Scottish accent I've ever heard," Douglas said amusedly. "I think there's only one more thing I've got to get from the car, so you can start unpacking for me if you want to be helpful."

"Righto!" Arthur said cheerily, and Douglas made his way back downstairs to say goodbye to his brother.

That evening, when Douglas had unpacked everything and Carolyn and Douglas had pretended not to be pleased to see each other again, the three of them found themselves searching the name 'Martin Crieff' on Facebook.

There weren't many results: a middle-aged man with a goatee and a dog; somebody named Martin Brown who'd left Crieff High School in 2003; and a freckly ginger boy who barely looked older than fifteen, and who had chosen an aeroplane for his cover photo.

"Looks like this is our Martin, then," Arthur said.

"Can you see anything in the 'about' section?" Carolyn asked, frowning.

Arthur clicked. Apparently, Martin had been born on March 17th, and he was a male, interested in women. 

"Pictures?" 

Arthur clicked on the next section, but there was nothing.

"He's obviously hidden everything. How irritating."

"Have a look at his 'likes'," suggested Douglas.

Arthur obliged, and about thirty pages came up: most seemed to be varieties of aircraft; with various music artists, films, books and foods also showing up.

"Gosh. He seems fascinating," Douglas drawled.

"Yes," said Carolyn, in a slightly guarded tone.

"Oh, come on, chaps, aeroplanes are brilliant! And I bet Martin's going to be brilliant, too!"

"Arthur, you think everyone's brilliant," Carolyn pointed out.

Arthur nodded, wide-eyed. "Well everyone _is_ brilliant! But I bet Martin's even more brilliant than most people."

"How much are you willing to bet?" Douglas asked, an alarming gleam in his eye, until Carolyn shot him a glare which clearly told him that he wasn't to bet with Arthur.

"Oh, fine."

~*~

It wasn't for another two days that their mysterious, apparently plane-obsessed new housemate showed up. Carolyn was sat in the living room starting on her reading for the year when the front door of the flat burst open, and a rather small young man in too-long jeans and a plain white t-shirt almost fell into the flat with a large bag.

"Oh, hello," he said, looking nothing short of terrified as he noticed Carolyn. "Erm - I'm Martin -" he fumbled with his bag as he tried to hold out a hand for her to shake, and ended up dropping it. He flushed.

"Carolyn," she said, noting that he looked just as young in person as his profile picture had suggested. "I take it you're our new housemate?"

"Yes! Yes, yes, I am, yes. Erm - sorry, which is my room?"

"Straight down the hallway, and it's right at the end. Are you alright with everything, or do you need a hand?"

"Oh - no, I'm perfectly capable, actually," he said. Carolyn raised her eyebrows at his rather proud, almost rude tone, and he looked suddenly alarmed.

"Oh! God! No, sorry, that probably sounded awful. I just - my sister Cat's helping, and you looked busy, and -"

Carolyn stared for a moment, truly amazed that somebody as hopeless as her younger brother had just stumbled into the flat.

"No, it's fine, Arthur loves nothing better than to help. Let me just go and get him."

Martin struggled down to his new room with his bag, and was just leaving when Carolyn returned with a grinning, round-faced boy with hair the exact shade of Carolyn's.

"Oh, you must be Martin!" said the boy enthusiastically. "I'm Arthur."

"Yes - hello," Martin said. "Erm - all my stuff's in my sister's car, so -"

"Brilliant!"

Carolyn watched as the boys made their way downstairs, and then sat back down in the living room, furiously texting Douglas about the ridiculousness of their new housemate.

~*~

It was funny, how quickly it had all become normal. Martin had only known Carolyn, Douglas and Arthur for a week and a half, but already he couldn’t imagine living with anybody else. He wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to be best friends with them – he was still a little intimidated by the fact that they’d already lived together for a year before he’d shown up, after all – but he liked them well enough.

And so when Martin came back from his first Thursday morning Introduction to Aviation lecture to find two of his housemates cooking together in the kitchen, he wandered in and said hello, without a hint of the panic that had plagued him those first couple of days.

“Hi Martin!” said Arthur, turning away from the strange-smelling concoction on the hob to grin at him. “Have you just got back from uni?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve just popped back for lunch, I’ve got another lecture at two. What, uh, what are you cooking?”

“Spaghetti hoops in chicken soup. It’s all I could find in the cupboards. D’you want some, if you’re here for lunch?”

Martin’s mouth opened in slight horror, just as Douglas turned around, pan full of pasta in hand, and raised an eyebrow, lip curled up in amusement.

“I’m sure Martin doesn’t have time to wait for your soup to be done, if he’s got to be back at two,” he said, pouring his fancy-looking pasta meal onto a plate and making his way to the kitchen table.

“Er – yes, I was just going to have a sandwich, thanks,” Martin agreed, sending a relieved, thankful sort of look at Douglas, who smirked. 

Arthur nodded, before turning back to his creation, tongue poked out in concentration, and began adding copious amounts of sugar to his pan. Martin, retrieving the butter for his sandwich, made a mental note to never accept any food from Arthur. Ever.

Martin finished making his sandwich and joined Douglas at the kitchen table.

"How's uni going for you, then?" Douglas asked, absent-mindedly stirring his fork around in his pasta.

"Uh," Martin began, mouth full of sandwich. He then realised what he'd done - _idiot, nobody likes to see you talk with your mouth full_ \- and felt himself flushing, before chewing as fast as he could to answer the question. "It's, uh, it's good, thanks. How, how, how about you?"

"Oh, much the same as ever, really," Douglas shrugged. "Course is devastatingly easy, Helena's tremendously distracting in lectures, and I still live with a bunch of idiots."

Before Martin could begin to respond to that, Arthur and his concoction appeared at the table. "So you're settling in okay, are you, Martin?" he said cheerily.

"Yes, I suppose so. All the people I've met on my course so far seem very … uh, very nice."

Something about Douglas's face shifted, eyebrows knitting together into a very interested sort of expression. 

"Nice?" he asked, looking rather expectantly at Martin, who became suddenly very flustered.

"Uh - uh - uh -"

"Oooh, is it a girl?"

Douglas sounded positively delighted. Arthur grinned, too.

"Wow, Martin, that’s brilliant! Who is it?"

"No, it's nothing, it's - it's just that she's ... nice. But I don't think anything will - she probably doesn't -"

"What's her name?" Douglas asked, grinning in a way that Martin found rather terrifying.

"Does it matter? You won't know her anyway, if she's a fresher," Martin argued, taking the final bite of his sandwich in the hope that it would end the conversation.

"Martin."

Martin finished chewing and sighed. "Her name's Linda," he muttered, and then glanced at his phone. "And I've got to go to another lecture with her now, actually."

"Good luck with it, then," Douglas grinned.

"Yeah, good luck, Martin! See you later!"

Martin gave an awkward nod and smile, made sure he had his keys, and raised his hand in farewell before leaving.

Douglas and Arthur glanced at one another.

"Martin's great, isn't he?"

"I'm beginning to think he's even more hopeless than you are," Douglas said in amusement. "Right, come on then, we'd best do the dishes before Carolyn comes back."

~*~

Eventually, Friday came: the end of the first long, difficult week of their studies, and the end of Martin's second week of living in Flat M. And arriving back at the building, exhausted, just after five, all he wanted to do was finish his work for next week, and then curl up with the latest issue of _Aeroplane Monthly_ and a mug of hot chocolate.

But as he made his way up the stairs towards his flat, he noticed a large group of people crowded around his front door. Feeling a sense of dread wash over him - both at the prospect of having to talk to them in order to get into the flat, and at the question of what they were doing there - he stopped for a moment on the stairs, trying to get a glimpse of who was there before he got any closer.

"Hi Martin," said a voice from behind him. "Why have you stopped?"

"Oh, hello, Arthur," Martin said, turning to smile at his flatmate. "There's loads of people outside the flat, and I was just trying to see who was there."

"I think that's the guys on our floor, you know, Karl and Dave and that lot. They're probably inviting us to a party tonight or something."

Martin sighed. "Of course they are. Well, we'd best get inside, then."

The pair of them continued up the stairs.

"Hello, chaps," Arthur grinned as they approached the group. 

"What - er, what's going on out here?" Martin asked warily.

"We've been invited to a party by these charming young men," Douglas said from the doorway.

"My place, tonight," said the tallest of the group gruffly. "Bring your own booze."

Martin nodded rather nervously. "Right. Thanks, Dirk. Erm - would you, would you mind if I just -"

He squeezed between Karl and Dirk, passed by Douglas, and finally found himself in the flat, filled with disappointment at his quiet night in having been ruined.

"Hello," Carolyn's voice echoed cheerily from the kitchen. 

"Hi."

Carolyn popped her head through the door to the living room, where Martin had collapsed onto the old, secondhand sofa in a fit of childish despair.  


"Oh, it's you, Martin, I thought you were Arthur. What's up with you?"

Martin uncurled his legs from underneath him and sighed.

"Nothing, really. I'd just sort of wanted to stay in tonight, but we've all been invited to Dirk's."

"Oh, yes, I've heard about that," Carolyn said rather wearily. "I rather think Arthur will bully us all into going, though, as far as Arthur can bully, so I'm afraid you'll have to come along."

Martin slid off the sofa, face still a picture of sleepy misery, and made his way to join Carolyn in the kitchen. After all, it was probably best to make tea and suffer through this party on a full stomach than to spend the evening both miserable and hungry.

~*~

At about eight o'clock, by which time Martin and Arthur had collected on the sofa and were halfway through watching _Escape to Camelot_ (something Arthur had insisted upon when he found out Martin hadn't seen it), Douglas burst into the living room: one hand holding several bags full of alcohol; the other holding the hand of a tall blonde girl.

"Hi!" Arthur waved as the pair of them entered.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe it is time for pre-drinks," Douglas announced, pushing down the lid of Arthur's laptop, thereby stopping the film, and beginning to empty his bags. 

"Douglas!" protested Martin, "we were watching that!"

"Yes, and now you're not. Up you all get, we need to be drunk before we get to Dirk's or we'll have to share our alcohol with everybody else. Where's Carolyn?"

“Right here,” said Carolyn, entering the living room with a packet of biscuits in her hand. She smiled at the blonde girl. “Hello, Helena. Starting on the drinks already, are we? What delights do we have to look forward to today?"

"Cheap white wine, value vodka, orange squash, and peach schnapps for Arthur."

"Brilliant!" Arthur grinned, sliding off the sofa to join Douglas and Helena on the floor.

"Orange squash? Why on earth did you buy that?" Martin asked, lightly freckled face screwed up into a bemused frown.

"It covers up the frankly awful taste of the value vodka," Douglas explained. "Now, get down here, we've got two hours before we join the party next door, we'd better get started."

An hour later, their game of 'I Never' had collapsed somewhat. Arthur had become so giggly after only a couple of drinks that Carolyn had confiscated the peach schnapps and sent him off to pick up the pineapple juice instead. Douglas, after moving onto his second vodka and squash, decided it was rather maddening having Arthur as the drunkest person in the room, and had begun encouraging everyone to do shots with him.

By ten o'clock, and more vodka shots than he could count, Martin and Carolyn were sitting almost on each other, unable to stop laughing. Douglas, rather more sober, had an arm thrown lazily around Helena, absent-mindedly twisting her blonde hair between his fingers. And Arthur, in an unexpected fit of sneakiness, had taken the peach schnapps back, and was slowly sipping at it while surveying the room with his usual enthusiastic cheeriness.

"Chaps," he said suddenly, after noticing the time display on Carolyn's phone on the table. "Shouldn't we be off to Dirk's now?"

It took a good few minutes of persuasion, but eventually, the five of them, each clutching a bottle of something, made their way out of the flat and across the hall to the party.

"Hello, you lot," grinned a somewhat tipsy Phil upon opening the door. "Go an' let Terry an' Dirk know you're here, will you? They've been thinking about going over to yours and dragging you over."

"Will do, Phil," Arthur answered, and bounced off to find the other two inhabitants of this flat. And as they watched him go, Martin noticed somebody else he knew.

"Linda's here! Douglas, Douglas, s'Linda, look! What do I do?"

Douglas assessed Martin for a moment, and came to the conclusion that he was drunk enough to be confident, but probably not drunk enough to put the poor girl off. Or at least, not put her off any more than his general Martin-ness would put her off anyway.  


"Go and talk to her!" 

"Right. Okay. I'll do that, then."

"Good luck," Douglas said in amusement, to which Martin nodded before wandering off in the direction of the girl.

And then Douglas noticed with alarm that somebody he recognised was stood near Linda. Somebody he hadn't seen in forever. And he marched over, barely hearing Martin’s fumbled attempts to ask out Linda in his surprise.

"Herc!" he said loudly.

"Douglas! Is that you? Good lord, whatever are you doing here? I thought you'd gone off to Edinburgh for medicine!"

"Yes. Yes, I did," Douglas began, and then paused for a moment. "And then I dropped out. What are you still doing here, anyway? I thought you'd have left by now."

"Oh, I'm doing my Masters' in Comparative Literature." 

"Right. Well, good for you," Douglas muttered, and then, noticing the questioning look on Herc's face and absolutely wanting to avoid the question of _why_ he’d dropped out of medical school, pulled Carolyn over. "Carolyn, this is Herc, an old schoolfriend. Herc, this is my housemate, Carolyn."

"Hello!" Carolyn said, rather more enthusiastically than had she been entirely sober. "Did - did he say your name was Herc?"

Herc smiled slightly. "Ah. Yes, he did. Short for Hercules."

Carolyn giggled - actually giggled! - and leant forwards, much too close to him. Douglas watched in utter bemusement, accidentally making eye contact with a grinning Herc.

"Hercules," she repeated, leaning even further forward and then grabbing his arms to steady herself. "What kind of name is that?"

"It's after an aircraft, if that makes it any better," Herc offered, which only made Carolyn giggle more.

"Martin would like that, he's studying aviation and ... something. And his bedroom's full of planes," she added, as a sort of afterthought. She stopped for a moment, and then turned to Douglas, who was still watching them. "Where's Martin? I think he needs to meet Hercules."

Douglas nodded, frown of bemusement still covering his face, and began his search for Martin.

After ten minutes or so, Douglas spotted the familiar ginger curls atop the most despondent-looking face he'd ever seen. Martin was sat in the corner of the kitchen clutching a bottle of what looked like beer and hugging his knees. Douglas grabbed a bottle for himself from the kitchen table and made his way over to his housemate.

"Are you all right?"

Martin shrugged wordlessly.

"Right. It's just that Carolyn sent me over to introduce you to an old friend of mine who's named after an aircraft."

Martin said nothing. Douglas took a drink, before persisting.

"So. How’s Linda?"

Martin looked up at that, an almost comically exaggerated look of misery on his face. He sighed loudly.

"She said no."

"You asked her out, did you?" said Douglas. "Well, that might get a trifle awkward in lectures next week."

"Thanks, Douglas," Martin muttered sarcastically. 

"Though you've always got the age-old excuse of it being alcohol-induced." Martin looked slightly mollified for a moment, then, much to Douglas's surprise, dropped his head onto Douglas's shoulder. 

"'m never gonna have a relationship like yours," Martin mumbled.

"Oh, Martin, come on. You're what, nineteen? You've got plenty of time. Come on, let's go and make sure Arthur's not got himself into any trouble."

Martin reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged off to Arthur, who'd abandoned his peach schnapps in favour of pineapple juice, which he was sipping at whilst engaged in conversation at the kitchen table with Helena and Terry.

"Hi guys," Arthur said, as Douglas deposited Martin by his side before taking a seat next to Helena.

"M'tired," Martin said sleepily, dropping his head onto the table beside Arthur. Arthur dropped his own head to the table, to face him more easily.

"It's only half past eleven," Arthur told him. 

"Don' care. Tired."

Seeing Martin's eyelids flutter closed, Arthur reached across the table to tap Douglas on the shoulder.

"Douglas, I think Martin's going to sleep, I might take him home."

"Off you go, then. Tell Carolyn you're going if you see her on the way out, will you? I don't want her thinking I've lost you."

"Will do, Douglas!"

Arthur pulled Martin into a standing position and weaved him in and out of the drunken students to the door. Back in their flat, he pushed Martin into his bedroom - taking care to avoid the model aeroplanes on his bedside table - and tucked him into bed.

"D'you want a hot chocolate or something?" 

Martin gave a light snore in response. Arthur patted his head, turned out the light, and made his way to his own bed for the night.

~*~

Carolyn woke early to the buzz of her phone the next morning. She took a moment to open her eyes, and another moment to adjust to the light filling her room. Of _course_ she'd neglected to close the curtains when she'd eventually got in.

Eventually, she reached out to grab her phone, screwing up her eyes against the brightness emanating from it. 8:04. What a revolting time to be awoken on a Saturday morning.

And she had a text, something she opened without bothering to check who it was from.

"Hello! Hope you're not too hungover this morning. I just thought you ought to know that you're rather an amusing drunk. How do you feel about meeting up this week? - Herc x"

Oh, good lord. Suddenly she was plagued with the thoroughly unwelcome memories of what had happened last night, in addition to a rather awful headache. Spectacular. 

Forgetting the text for a moment, she rolled out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown, and wandered slowly into the kitchen to get herself a glass of water.

And in the kitchen, also awake at eight o'clock in the morning for some reason, was a figure in the crumpled jeans and t-shirt of the previous night, sat, head in hands, at the kitchen table with ridiculously sleep-mussed hair and an untouched mug in front of him. 

"Morning, Martin," Carolyn greeted him, each syllable making her head pound worse than ever. Martin only grunted in response.

Having filled her glass with water, she joined Martin at the table, where they sat for what felt like hours, not moving, and silently hoping that they'd recover soon.

An hour or so later, a shampoo-scented somebody bounced into the kitchen for breakfast.

"Oh, hello!" said Arthur, far more loudly than necessary.

Martin muttered something that sounded vaguely like "shut up, Arthur."

"Are you two okay? Do you want me to get you some breakfast, or something?"

Carolyn looked up from her water, noticing that Martin was hugging his head ever more tightly.

"If you could be quiet and find some paracetamol, that would be wonderful."

"Right, will do! Where's the paracetamol?"

Martin's head dropped to the table, where he covered it with both his arms. Carolyn dearly wished she could do the same.

"Try the top drawer in my room."

~*~

By the time Douglas awoke at midday, the warm body he'd fallen asleep next to had been replaced by a note: "Dougie - didn't want to wake you, but I've gone home. Love you – Helena xxx". He found Arthur lying across the sofa watching something on his laptop, and upon reaching the kitchen to make himself breakfast, noticed his other two housemates sat at the kitchen table. Carolyn was sleeping, head resting on the table, mop of brown hair covering her face. Martin, on the other hand, appeared to be trying his best not to look ill.

"Hungover, are we?" Douglas asked, amusedly. Grinning at the scowl Martin sent him, he made his way to the cupboards and began cooking. Twenty minutes later, when he placed two bowls of hot, homemade vegetable soup on the table, ruffled Carolyn's hair to wake her up, and got Arthur to bring in blankets, Douglas felt he was quite possibly the most popular person in the house for the moment.

"Seriously, Douglas, thank you," Martin said, looking a little more alive after eating. "And - erm - sorry, about last night."

"Quite alright," Douglas said, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. "Though I will, of course, be keeping it as teasing fodder for the foreseeable future."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Martin began, but then looked down at the empty bowl in front of him, and stopped. "Oh, fine," he conceded, "I'm going back to bed. I'll see you all later."

~*~

The following week was quieter. Martin had apologised to Linda, worried he’d made things awkward, and she'd laughed and said it was fine, and that she was perfectly happy to be friends, "especially as my housemate, Herc, seems to be dating your housemate!"

Martin, having heard nothing of this, had planned to mention this to Douglas at some point, but by the time he'd remembered it was Thursday morning, and Carolyn and Herc - he dressed in a t-shirt and underwear - were in the kitchen bickering over whether or not it was revoltingly outdated for the man in a heterosexual relationship to be the one to pay for dates, while Martin tried to eat his cereal inconspicuously and Douglas tried to control the smirk on his face.

It became normal, after that, to find Herc around the flat. And with that came other new normalities; Douglas teasing Carolyn incessantly, for example; or Carolyn and Herc's non-stop battle to one-up one another. 

And soon, without anyone quite noticing, it was December. Arthur had decorated the flat with Poundland tinsel and a picture of a Christmas tree he'd cut out of a magazine; Martin was struggling to revise for his Flight Mechanics exam and kept snapping at people; Herc was singing carols whenever he was over, much to Carolyn's displeasure; and Douglas had taken to wearing a fake beard and dressing entirely in red. 

One particular day, the Tuesday of Martin's exam, three days before the end of term, Karl had invited them all to a Christmas party over at his. And there they all went, with mulled wine and mistletoe and non-stop Christmas songs.

And there Martin noticed, midway through the night, a rather drunk Helena kissing an even more drunk Terry in the corner of the room.

He looked around to see if anybody else had seen, but the only person he recognised was that dark-haired girl on his course who was apparently a European princess, but he'd never spoken to her before.

He looked back to where he'd seen Helena, and with a sinking feeling in his chest, saw that Douglas had noticed, because Douglas appeared to be arguing with Helena. Martin swallowed, not knowing quite what to do - but then he saw Douglas storm off, and knew he needed to follow.

But then Karl stopped him, and dragged him into playing some sort of drinking game with him and Dave and George and Arthur, which took him ten minutes or so to escape from, by which time Douglas had disappeared.

He wandered around Karl’s for ages, asking everybody he recognised if they'd seen Douglas, but to no avail. And eventually he made his way across the hall to his own flat, hoping Douglas had come back.

And there he was, on the sofa, on the sofa, clutching a bottle, and staring furiously at the walls.

"Douglas?" Martin asked gently, and when there's no response, he moves a bit closer. "Are - are you alright?"

"Yes, Martin, I'm doing fantastically," Douglas snapped. "Presumably you've heard what happened, and I'm obviously overjoyed."

Martin said nothing for a moment, trying to work out how best to word what he wanted to say.

"Douglas, I'm sorry."

Douglas scoffed, but said nothing.

"No, really. I - I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

Douglas's face screwed up into a scowl for a moment, mouth pursed as though he was going to give an angry retort, but then his face relaxed into a more sombre expression.

"Thank you," he said after a while.

Martin smiled nervously. 

"Do you - er, do you mind if I join you?"

Douglas shrugged, so Martin sat down on the sofa next to him. They were silent for a good few moments, until -

"We've been together since the first week of uni, last year. Apparently, she and Terry have been - _together_ \- since the beginning of this term."

Martin bit his lip and glanced at Douglas from the corner of his eye, not sure how to respond.

"I'd thought me and her could maybe make this work. Move in together after uni, probably get engaged eventually, that sort of thing.”

Martin turned his head then, because he wasn't sure he'd ever heard Douglas sound so lost. Douglas was blinking, eyes wide -

"Fuck, I shouldn't have drunk so much," he said, and unexpectedly, completely out of nowhere, leaned sideways, dropping his head into Martin's side, face hidden away and covered by hair.

Martin wasn't entirely sure what to do with this development. Douglas was silent, and seemed to be close to sleep, and so Martin - with the vague idea that it might help him into sleep - began stroking his dark hair.

And later, when Martin decided it was time for him to get to bed, he retrived Douglas's pillow and duvet, covered him up, arranged some paracetamol and water on the coffee table for the morning, and made his way to bed.

~*~

Arthur was usually the only one in on Wednesday mornings. Martin was in lectures all day, every day; Douglas had his Shakespeare lecture at nine on a Wednesday; and Carolyn had her management and organisation classes.

And Arthur, the lucky person he was, had Wednesdays off.

So on that Wednesday in mid-December, he was really rather surprised to find a body on the sofa as he made his way sleepily to the kitchen for a breakfast of toast and jam (raspberry, not strawberry).

On closer inspection, he realised that it was Douglas, curled up on his pillow, covered by what looked like his own duvet - it was plain black, and he knew that none of the others had a black duvet. And the table in front of him had pills and a glass of water resting on it, like someone thought he might wake up with a hangover and wanted to help. Arthur wondered if it had been Helena, and smiled at the thought that she and Douglas loved each other so much.

Arthur decided it would probably be best to let Douglas sleep, and continued on his way to get breakfast.  


And then, just as he was taking his slightly-burnt toast from the toaster, there was a groan from the other room.

"Are you alright, Douglas?" Arthur called, going back to the living room clutching his toast. Douglas lifted his head and grunted in response.

"Do you want me to get you anything? Someone's left you some water and paracetamol on the table."

"Tha' must be Martin," Douglas mumbled into his arm.

"Right. Erm, are you alright? Or do you want anything?"

Douglas dragged himself into a sitting position, and reached out for the water and the pills. 

"Did you drink a bit too much, then?" Arthur asked, moving to sit on the sofa next to Douglas.

"Yes, I think I rather did," Douglas said croakily. He sipped at the water, but still looked utterly miserable.

"Oh, Douglas, you silly great man," said Arthur in an odd, mock-teasing, vaguely affectionate tone. Douglas's mouth quirked into the ghost of a smile.

"Yes," he said, and then seemed to fall into the gloom again. They were silent for a few moments, and when Arthur looked back, Douglas looked almost ... lost.

"Really though Douglas, are you okay?"

Douglas stared into space for another few moments, and Arthur wasn't sure whether he'd heard the question at all, or if he was just thinking about it. He was about to ask again when Douglas eventually spoke.

"Not entirely, as it turns out."

Arthur frowned, bit his lip, and cocked his head to the side, looking at Douglas carefully.

"Oh. Right. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Douglas sighed, closed his eyes, and put his hands to his head. He screwed up his face, and stayed like that for a while. Arthur wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do in this situation. He was thinking of maybe going to make a cup of tea, but then Douglas spoke again. It was funny, how he seemed to speak just when Arthur was getting a bit lost, like he wanted to help Arthur to help him.

"I don't suppose you heard about me and Helena, last night?"

Arthur shook his head.

"Gosh. That's rather surprising, to tell the truth."

"What happened? Did she break up with you? Is that why you drank too much?"

"Well, that's the general gist," said Douglas, seemingly trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice wobbled a little in the middle, like his real feelings were trying to break out through his voice. Arthur wondered how it was that feelings could do that, jump out in voices when people didn't want them to. It was a bit rude of them, probably.

"Oh." Arthur really didn't know what to say to that. "I thought you and Helena made each other happy."

Douglas smiled at that, a painful-looking sort of smile that looked really rather fake.

"Not as happy as Terry from opposite makes her, apparently."

Arthur took a moment to think about that, but then all of a sudden it made a horrible sort of sense.

"Oh. Oh! That's horrible! Why, why would they do that?"

Douglas shrugged, his face all curled up in misery, and Arthur desperately wanted to fix it somehow but he didn't know how. It was Douglas who normally fixed things. Douglas was the cleverest person he knew.

Arthur shuffled himself over so he was closer to Douglas, and put an arm around him, hoping it would help a little bit. Douglas looked a little surprised, but leant into the contact, and closed his eyes.

"I think you might've missed your Shakespeare lecture, Douglas," Arthur said after a while, and Douglas snorted his laughter.

"I'm sure I'll survive, Arthur," he said.

Arthur smiled at that.

~*~

Soon enough, it was the last day of term, and everybody was off home for Christmas. All four of them had to get the train, which - as Fitton didn't have its own train station - meant a bus ride down to Leamington Spa before they went their separate ways: Martin to Wokingham for an inevitably sitcom-esque Christmas full of bickering; Douglas to London, where he and his brother would roll their eyes at each other while being questioned on their life choices by their well-meaning extended family; and Carolyn and Arthur to their mother and her sister and probably their awful cousin, Ruth, who was Carolyn's age and liked to parade her marriage and young son as some sort of sign that she was doing better than Carolyn was.

And so, after swapping Secret Santa presents in a living room lit only by fairy lights, sharing mulled wine and giggles with Herc, the four of them helped each other with their things down to the bus stop. And then they helped each other off the bus stop, and made their way down the dark street towards the train station, so cold they could see their breath in front of them, pretending to be dragons (Carolyn rather reluctantly). 

And then it was time for them to go their separate ways. 

"Well. Have a good Christmas, all of you," Carolyn said, feeling rather awkward about leaving all of a sudden.

"Yeah, have a great time! And don't open the presents I got you til Christmas Day," Arthur grinned.  


"I won't," Douglas and Martin chorused, smirking slightly at each other in the knowledge that both of them had already opened Arthur's gifts.

"I've - uh, I've really got to go now," Martin said after a while, fumbling in his coat pocket for his ticket as he checked the departure board for the fifteenth time. "But - thanks, for everything this term, and I hope next term's just as fun. And merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" the others said, and Arthur ran up and gave him a quick hug.

"And thank you, for all your help the other day," Douglas said in an undertone, as Martin wriggled out of Arthur's hug. Martin nodded, smiled, waved, and made his way off to his platform.

"Right. Well, in that case, I'd best be off, too. Have a truly excellent Christmas, don't talk to Herc too much, and I'll see you both next term."

Arthur hugged Douglas, too; Carolyn smiled and waved; and the three of them went off in their separate ways, all secretly rather looking forward to the beginning of next term.


End file.
